


If I could change the past

by Sagnfreidi



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Academy Era, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Exams, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Jim, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Protective Bones, Secrets, Slow Burn, Tarsus IV, and all the hurt, mentions of rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-04-21 22:32:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14294889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagnfreidi/pseuds/Sagnfreidi
Summary: The historic command exam is one of the three most important exams on the command track. Leonard is worried about Jim’s laissez faire attitude to the whole course. When Jim gets his subject for the exam things goes south quickly, and Leonard finds himself needing to save more than Jim’s exam situation.





	1. Luck of the draw

**Author's Note:**

> This story will have triggers for child abuse and sexual abuse, and for depression too I guess?  
> There will be loads and loads of hurt, because, well, Tarsus.  
> But there will be comfort too, I promise. Bones is the best, after all.

Leonard McCoy is overworked, stressed out and will likely die from a heart attack before he turns forty. He blames half of it on his ex-wife and Starfleet and work, and the other half solely on Jim Kirk. His roommate and best friend of two years has a way of wreaking havoc on his life like no one Leonard has ever met before.

If it isn’t crazy and usually illegal stunts involving anything from smuggled Dakalan brandy to breaking and entering an admiral’s house, then it’s plain old worry over the young man’s eating habits, sleeping habits and working habits.

In short, Leonard worries about the way Jim Kirk lives his life like he doesn’t expect to grow old.

He also worries about how many secrets Jim keeps hiding, and he worries about the things Jim has decided to share about his life, almost all of them traumatic in some way. Leonard is more than a little deferential of his friend’s ability to function despite the impossible odds he’s setting for himself. But in spite of the layers of hurt that Leonard’s aware Jim is hiding, he’ll never think of his friend as damaged. The kid’s a genius, even if he likes to ignore the fact, he’s acing every course on his crazy accelerated program. He has a way of enjoying the moment and creating adventure out of routine that, combined with the genuine and deeply rooted kindness Jim carries underneath his jokes and bravado, makes Leonard thankful of being his friend.

Still, Leonard worries. Worries because Jim doesn’t seem to worry about himself, and someone has to.

Right now the worry is unusual. Jim might have a reputation as a playboy and party animal, but being his best friend, Leonard knows how unfounded the rumors are. In the two years they’ve lived together, Leonard’s only known Jim to have had sex three times. Every other reported instance has either been completely made up or been nothing more than a make-out session at a bar. And while he and Jim both likes to hit the bars at the end of the week, neither has money for the crazy drinking schedule that people apparently think they’re on. Jim frequently gets offers of drinks, but he always turns the offers down, even though it would be a cheap way to get drunk. Leonard doesn’t question it, it’s just part of the self-sufficient lifestyle his friend leads.

These things in themselves disprove the image the rumor mill produces of the infamous Jim Kirk, but to Leonard the ultimate reason why the rumors have it wrong isn’t the fact that Jim rarely moves past making out with people, or that neither of them has money to party several times a week. Jim is after all the kind of guy who gets involved in adventures that actually are the stuff of campus legend, so no one could claim that he lives a boring life. No, the reason Leonard can positively say that the rumor mill is off by a mile is because Leonard knows how exceptionally dedicated to learning Jim is.

People mistake the amount of places Jim shows up at as him simply coasting through his classes while enjoying the social side of the academy. They don’t understand that the blonde cadet lives on an exceptionally strict schedule, taking more classes in a week than most do in three. They don’t notice that his extracurricular activities are almost all done in a mentoring capacity.

The first is somewhat understandable, because Leonard knows from the few classes they share that Jim doesn’t draw much attention to himself, preferring to sit quietly in the back and simply taking the information in. The second is more baffling to Leonard, though.

Literally hundreds of cadets have benefitted from Jim aiding study groups on practically every subject taught at the academy. He helps with advanced warp theory for engineers and trains xeno-diplomatic relations with the senior command track students. He gives out instructions on everything from close combat to xenolanguages to space navigation. Hell, he even plays instructing matches against the prodigies of the chess club.

Yet, in spite of all this, no one seems to realize what he’s doing. In stead everyone seems to assume that Jim’s teaching efforts are limited to whatever activity they themselves partake in, or they don’t even realize the kind of help Jim is patiently providing when he’s asking prodding questions, offering tidbits of knowledge to guide cadets in the right direction, or handing out encouragement or dares for them to do better.

When taking all this into consideration, Leonard has sufficient proof to say that Jim takes learning very seriously. And while he has often worried about the way Jim is working himself to an early grave, he has never had reason to worry about his academic performance before. Sure, Jim doesn’t really read for his classes – he’s too busy learning everything else and then teaching it to the rest of the academy – but he’s never slacked on attendance. Not before this semester. And it worries Leonard, because of all the classes Jim could have decided to skip out on, historic command class is not the one he’d have recommended.

The course is notoriously difficult, and the exam is one of those that directly influence what rank a command track cadet will graduate with. It’s even held with an admiral as external examiner, which should tell everyone how big of a deal it is.

The exam has two components: The first is a presentation of a historical conflict which Starfleet has been involved in. The cadet is expected to recount the events, make an analyzation of the strategies Starfleet had employed in dealing with the conflict, and discuss the practical outcome and political aftermath. The second component is a hypothetical handling of the conflict. Based on the knowledge that Starfleet had to make their original decisions, the cadet is asked to come up with an alternate strategy to the one that was actually employed. The cadets has to argue their way through each suggested action and explain what results they expect until they have hypothetically resolved the situation. The examiners on their part will question their actions, point out flaws and possible disasters that the cadet has failed to predict, continuously having the cadet to defend or even change their actions.

More than one cadet has left the exam in tears, and while a small handful has gotten an A, only three people scored more than 85 in the assessment. No one has gotten more than 93.

So of all the classes that Jim could have decided to skip out on, historic command class is not what Leonard would consider a wise choice. It’s also a choice that makes no sense to him. Jim went to the classes in the beginning of the semester and had even talked about the coursework with some appreciation and interest. Then the topic had turned to the Kelvin incident, and Jim had, understandably, opted out of those lessons. He’d gone back to the course once the classes on the Kelvin incident were done, only to drop out of the course once again for several weeks. After that he only infrequently attended the historic command lessons.

Leonard hasn’t had the time nor the actual right to force Jim to attend, but he has given Jim some grief about it over the semester. Jim would inevitably shrug his comments off and say that he had it covered, and that Leonard worries too much. By now it’s a moot point. The semester is over. Finals have commenced. And just earlier that day Jim would have gotten his topic for his historic command exam, which of course is why Leonard’s worries have returned in spite of their futility.

Jim has 48 hours to prepare his presentation, and Leonard can only hope that it will be enough to make up for the fact that Jim most likely haven’t attended the lessons on whatever subject he’s gotten. He also, fervently, hopes Jim hasn’t gotten the Kelvin incident. While Jim probably knows more about the incident than anyone else – because Jim craves knowledge about everything with an almost fanatic fervor, and that definitely includes the event that inadvertently shaped his entire life – Leonard doesn’t want Jim, who is always compared to his dead father, to have to assume the position of said dead father. And not only that, but having to come up with an alternate strategy that would inevitably be deemed wanting simply because Jim is Jim and not George Kirk, and his solution to the problem will likely be vastly different from his father’s.

Leonard considers the constant comparisons to be one of the great injustices of Jim Kirk’s life. People look at Jim and see George, forgetting that Jim has never even met the man. Everything Jim does is held up to George’s standards. And he really can’t win, because his everyday activities are for unfathomable reasons perceived as self-serving, arrogant and brash, and so he’s a disappointment because George Kirk would never have chased skirts or shirked responsibilities, and that is, according to public opinion, all that Jim is ever doing.

And even if Jim does better than George – if he repeatedly scores higher test results, spends more hours volunteering, comes up with ingenious academic papers and out-of-the-box thinking – even then Jim is an insult to his father’s memory, because clearly he’s just needlessly showing off or fooling people with his boyish charms. It has to reflect negatively on Jim when he does well, because apparently it’s offensive to the George Kirk worshippers when Jim shows his father up. It’s a good thing that Jim is determined to not believe in no-win scenarios or he’d have been beaten a long time ago. Leonard sure as hell couldn’t have kept up with the insane expectations hanging over Jim’s head.

Leonard tries to shake his thoughts off him as he arrives home after his morning shift at the clinic. He finds Jim in the kitchen, PADD on the table but apparently unused for a while, since the screen has gone to battery saving mode. There’s a cup of coffee in front of him that’s no longer steaming, and his fingers are drumming restlessly against the table while Jim himself seems entirely lost in thoughts.

“So. What did you get?” Leonard asks. Jim startles and looks up at him like he hasn’t noticed Leonard getting home.

“What?” Jim asks, uncharacteristically flummoxed. Leonard frowns. It takes something to throw Jim off his game.

“The exam. What topic did you get?” Leonard repeats. Jim would have gotten his exam topic roughly an hour ago. Jim swallows. Jim swallows? Has he gotten the Kelvin? That would be Jim’s rotten luck.

“Tarsus IV.” Jim then says.

Tarsus IV is a horrible story in every sense of the words. Pretty much every bad thing you could imagine had happened on the small Earth colony when their crops got destroyed by a malicious fungus. When Federation help had finally arrived, almost five thousand colonists had died from starvation, murder, rioting or the mass genocide that the mad governor had ordered. The remaining three thousand had been in a poor condition.

The Tarsus IV disaster was covered in Starfleet medical training. Leonard had felt actually sick reading about the things done to the people there, and worse, to the children. The statistics alone are horrendous. Out of the 3204 survivors, more than a thousand has committed suicide in the eleven years since the disaster, and an estimated 1500 are permanently admitted to various psychiatric institutions. If anyone has any doubts of how bad the Tarsus IV catastrophe had been, those numbers should dispel them of that. It’s an ugly story, but it doesn’t really explain Jim’s attitude.

“Something wrong with that topic?” Leonard asks, trying to make sense of his friend’s despondent look. Jim apparently realizes that he’s looking less than chipper since he straightens up and smiles.

“No. I’m just trying to figure out how to approach the problem. It’s a mess.” Jim says, and Leonard nods.

“It sure is. Made me sick just to read about. Hell if I know what I’d have done.” Leonard says and Jim nods, tense. Leonard’s frown returns.

“Did you know anybody there?” He asks, because there’s no way Jim hasn’t got a personal connection what with the way he’s reacting. Jim hesitates.

“My aunt and uncle. And two cousins.” He finally says.

“I’m sorry, Jim.” Leonard says, and Jim simultaneously nods and shrugs.

“Yeah. They died pretty early on, which I suppose is a good thing, considering. Mum didn’t take it too well, though.” Jim says, and there’s bitterness to his voice. But then Leonard has heard stories of how Winona Kirk reacts to loss, and it’s never been to her youngest son’s advantage.

“No?” Leonard asks, because if Jim wants to talk about it, he’s not going to shut him down.

“No.” Jim just repeats, and Leonard accepts the dismissal.

“You’re right it’s a mess of a situation to try and make sense of. Still, you’ll do fine. You always do, though I damn well don’t know how. But if anyone can make a winning strategy out of that clusterfuck of a problem, it’s gotta be you.” He says, and it feels odd because it’s usually Jim who’s convincing him that he’s unbeatable. But Jim just sits there, flinching slightly, and Leonard wonders what the hell Winona did to make the death of Jim’s aunt, uncle and cousins into such a trauma.

“You need a fresh cup of coffee to get you started? That one seems cold.” Leonard says and Jim nods, once again pulling himself together.

“Thanks, Bones.” He says, and Leonard just hums in response as he sets about making coffee.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s getting late in the evening, and Leonard is wondering whether forcing himself to read another chapter for the _specialized xenobiology III_ exam is worth the frustration of keeping awake, or if he should just go to bed already. He glances at the chronometer. It’s a quarter past one in the night. It’s definitely time to go to bed. Thankfully he doesn’t have the morning shift but the afternoon one tomorrow. He should still get up early and use the extra hours to read.

He closes the book and turns off the reading light at the desk, strolling into the bathroom to prepare for bed. He briefly wonders where Jim might be at. Jim had left in the afternoon, heading to the library to look up additional material on the Tarsus IV case. He’d been acting off the entire day before that though.

Usually Jim is relaxed when he’s reading. It’s the only time the younger man will actually be entirely still, even more so than when he sleeps. He also usually prefers to read lying on his bed, no matter how much Leonard insists that it isn’t beneficial to his studies to be lying down. Today has been different. Jim remains at the kitchen table as he reads, and he’s decidedly fidgety as he does so.

Most of the times when Leonard comes to check on him – and yes, Jim’s behavior is odd enough that it warrants checking on – Jim is just staring into thin air with a faraway expression on his face, much like when Leonard had arrived home earlier in the day.

Leonard is honestly at a loss for what’s wrong with his friend, but he also knows that asking will get him nowhere. The appreciation Jim might feel for him caring will be outweighed by his default annoyance about prying, and when it comes to personal issues, Jim has defensive and deflective mechanism so extensive it makes Vulcans seem touchy-feely.

So Leonard opts to show his care by wordlessly replacing the untouched coffee in front of Jim from time to other and forcing him to eat something. When Jim leaves for the library, Leonard isn’t sure if he’s relieved that Jim is taking some kind of initiative or worried that he can no longer keep an eye on the other man.

Leonard hasn’t heard from him since, but that isn’t out of the ordinary. If Jim really has immerged himself into studying, he’ll be in a world of his own. And Jim probably sleeps less than any other person Leonard knows, so it isn’t too strange that Jim hasn’t returned yet, in spite of the hour. Leonard briefly considers calling Jim to check if everything is okay before he turns in for the night, but then he decides against it. Jim hates it when he feels like he’s being nannied.

So Leonard just changes into a comfortable t-shirt and gets under the covers of his bed, trying to settle in. It doesn’t work. The small student apartment always seems different without Jim in it, and it’s rare that Leonard goes to bed without Jim being home. And after today, where he’s been worried about the other man, it’s even harder to fall asleep without him there.

Still, Leonard _is_ almost asleep after an hour of boxing with his pillow. And then the peace is shattered when the front door is opened too forcefully, the door hitting the wall loudly. Leonard sits up with a curse, startled out of his almost-sleep. Jim sounds like he’s stumbling around, and Leonard gets up, still muttering annoyedly under his breath.

“Jim. What the hell are you doing?” Leonard demands as he gets into the room. Jim sways as he opens his arms and walks towards Leonard.

“Bones!” He declares, his voice pulling at the word and drawing out the ‘s’. It sounds more like _Booooonssss._ The smell of alcohol hits Leonard as Jim reaches him and then almost throws his weight at him. Leonard only barely catches him.

“Dammit, man! What’re you doing?” Leonard asks again.

“I was just…” Jim waves his hand and his entire arm flails around in the air.

“This ain’t like you, Jim. The hell’s going on?” He asks as he drags Jim towards the bedroom and Jim’s bed to dump him.

“Nothing. It’s always nothing. Nothing’s going on. Nothing to see. Nothing to hear. Why are everyone so excited about a whole big pile of nothing?” Jim muses as Leonard proceeds to pull off Jim’s shoes, since he knows Jim won’t be able to do it.

“It’s never nothing with you, Jim.” Leonard says with a sigh.

“Hm.” Jim says noncommittally as he sags against the wall. Leonard gets up and wonders if he should attempt to undress Jim further, but it seems like more trouble than it’s worth. It’s not like Jim hasn’t slept fully clothed before anyway.

“Did you know that the colonists on Tarsus had a standardized pricing system for food based on sexual favors?” Jim is always surprisingly eloquent when he’s drunk, even if he’s got a bit of a drunken slur. Leonard sighs. So Jim had been hitting the library before hitting the bar even harder. Leonard can’t really blame Jim for feeling down after reading such things.

“No, Jim. I didn’t.” Leonard answers.

“No? Well. A blowjob for a bread. Girls got bread and two chocolate bars for normal sex. A protein bar on top if she did anal. Boys got protein bars as default for anal. They could even get fresh fruit if they could do the penetrating. Everything could be negotiated, though. Conserves rather than protein bars, grains in stead of bread. A whole system.” Jim says, his words muffled as he himself pulls off his shirt while still leaning against the wall. Leonard feels sick at Jim’s recount. This kind of knowledge can’t be aiding Jim in passing his exam.

“It didn’t work for everyone, you know. Just the pretty ones. The pretty children. There were more going hungry than there were people who had food to give. They could make their pick.” Jim continues, sliding sideways down the wall and ending up in what could only be a very uncomfortable position. Leonard helps Jim settling in better.

“No one’s pretty when they’re starving.” Jim carries on disregarding how he’s being moved. His blue eyes are looking at Leonard, but they aren’t really seeing him. Leonard sighs.

“You should stop thinking about this and go to sleep.” He says, knowing that it doesn’t really work like that. Jim disregards his words.

“No one’s pretty when they’re starving. But you know, your eyes. They get big and glassy. Some people liked that. Big, bright eyes. Pretty eyes. Those were the ones they wanted. The pretty eyes.” Jim’s own eyes flutters shut, and his words become mumbled towards the end. Before Leonard can figure out what to say to such a disturbing explanation, Jim has fallen asleep.

This kind of knowledge can only come from the witness statements. Leonard can’t believe that Starfleet would allow those records to be public. He considers starting a riot over the recklessness of it, but then he has to consider the possibility that Jim hacked the records in an effort to understand the conflict better. If that’s the case, it won’t do to pull attention to the fact. Leonard decides to chew out Jim in the morning, and then categorically pushes the matter out of his head in an effort to get some sleep.

 

* * *

 

To his surprise, Jim is already up when Leonard wakes up in the morning. Considering how drunk Jim had been when he got home the previous night, Leonard wasn’t expecting him to wake up until nine. It’s only seven am. Leonard gets out of bed and pads into the kitchen on bare feet. Jim is there, facing the door as he leans back on the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Morning.” Jim says pleasantly. Leonard looks at him with narrowed eyes.

“You look like shit.” He states. Jim huffs in response.

“Is that your medical opinion?” He asks sarcastically. Leonard raises his eyebrows intimidatingly.

“Do you want my medical opinion?” He asks, the dare clear in his voice.

“Since your medical opinion usually ends up with me being hypoed, not really, no.” Jim answers, giving him a grin that should have been reassuring but really isn’t. Jim is pale, paler than hangovers usually causes him to be. But what really tips Leonard off is the tired, almost haunted look in Jim’s eyes. It’s the look he gets when he’s talking about his childhood. Only this seems worse, somehow.

“So. What happened last night?” Leonard asks, walking over to the counter to get some coffee for himself. Jim shrugs next to him.

“I was at the library. Then I decided to get drunk. I’m surprised I made it home, really.” Jim says nonchalantly. Leonard narrows his eyes at the insufficient answer.

“Are the witness statements on the Tarsus IV incident public?” Leonard shoots, and he knows he’s hit a nerve with the way Jim immediately becomes guarded.

“No, I don’t think so. Why?” Jim answers.

“Did you break into the witness statements by any chance?” Leonard asks, careful to keep any kind of judgement out of his voice.

“Why would you think that?” Jim deflects, looking carefully at him.

“Some things you said last night. You don’t remember?” Leonard asks, and Jim looks both a little disturbed and completely confused.

“No, I don’t. What did I say?” He asks cautiously. Leonard puts his cup on the table and turns to look at Jim, carefully monitoring his friend’s expression.

“You were talking about the way the leaders used sexual favors as a currency for food.” He says. Jim’s expression doesn’t immediately change.

“That’s public knowledge.” Jim points out. Leonard only narrows his eyes.

“You were talking about how they picked the kids they were willing to use. Kept rambling about how no one’s pretty when they’re starving and then about their eyes. It was like you were quoting someone.” Leonard explains. Jim’s eyes widens fractionally.

“I said that?” Jim asks and Leonard just nods. He sure as hell didn’t make it up.

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t break into the records?” Jim asks. Leonard just raises an eyebrow in answer.

“It’s illegal to do something like that.” Jim says it like it’s an argument.

“I damn well know that. I was just wondering if you knew as well.” Leonard says with annoyance. Jim actually do look remorseful. Leonard sighs.

“Just make sure you don’t slip like that at the exam. The admiral is going to know if you’re saying things you’re not supposed to know.” Leonard says, and Jim smiles, the first real smile Leonard has seen on him since he came back from work yesterday. The smile is a little sad but also overpoweringly grateful. It almost makes Leonard feel bad, since he hasn’t done anything to warrant that kind of gratitude.

“Thanks, Bones.” Jim says and Leonard huffs something that’s not really a word before he turns away and leaves to kitchen to get dressed. This whole thing is more than Leonard knows how to deal with. Primarily because he still has no idea what the issue is really about. All he can do is hope that Jim will let him in before he whatever this is crashes down too hard on him.


	2. See no evil, hear no evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your comments! Gosh, I hope this lives up to your expectations. Time to get in deep with the hurt!

Leonard can’t help hovering over Jim through the morning. Jim is working over his presentation in the same fitful way he did yesterday. He’s only getting paler and when Leonard attempts to get him to eat breakfast Jim shoots him a look that seems almost disgusted.

Leonard is getting increasingly worried. Whatever is wrong, the problem is only getting worse. It’s when he notices that Jim’s hand holding the stylus is trembling he starts to wonder if maybe Jim is _actually_ sick. Not three minutes after that Jim is getting up from the table and making his way to the bathroom in very determined steps, barely closing the door behind him before Leonard hears the distinctive sounds of Jim throwing up in the toilet. Leonard frowns in worry and gets a glass of water before he picks up his medical bag and makes it over to the bathroom. He knocks on the door before entering.

The bathroom isn’t really large enough for both of them, not with Jim sprawled over the floor as he clings to the toilet for dear life. Sweat is covering his pale face and dampening his hair. He looks absolutely miserable. Leonard can tell that Jim isn’t done throwing up, so he sits down at the door, waiting for Jim to get it all out.

As a doctor, he can’t help but try and diagnose what’s making Jim sick. One option would be the alcohol, but if Jim was going to be throwing up over that, he would have done it hours ago. It seems more likely to be a stomach bug. Probably something Jim ate the night before. Leonard is surprised that Jim had the presence of mind to eat the previous night, but then again, he could have picked it up from eating a bar snack. When Jim seems to be over the worst of it, Leonard hands over the glass of water. Jim accepts it with still shaking hands. Once he’s rinsed his mouth and emptied it, he straightens up a bit.

“I’m okay, Bones.” Jim says, and Leonard wants to hit Jim at the stupidity of that statement.

“I can see that.” Leonard says, sarcasm thick in his voice. Jim almost smiles at that, which does count at a victory.

“So. I’m gonna give you a hypo to settle your stomach.” Leonard says. Jim predictably shakes his head.

“I don’t need it.” He says.

“You just emptied your stomach into the toilet. You need it, kid.” Leonard says.

“Please don’t.” Jim says, and it’s so rare that Jim says please that it actually gives Leonard pause.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t.” Leonard says.

“It won’t do me any good?” It sounds like a question.

“Jim. I know you don’t like hypos. But a stomach flu is so easily treated, it’s stupid not to do it. Especially since you don’t exactly have the time to be sick right now.” Leonard points out. Jim shakes his head.

“I’m okay.” He says stubbornly. Leonard feels his temper flare.

“You are goddamned not okay! Whatever the hell is going on, you’re the opposite of okay. Now you will at least take the damn hypo, so you don’t have to be chained to the toilet for the rest of the day!” Leonard says, picking up the hypo from his bag. Jim has apparently gotten angry too, glaring alternately at the hypospray and Leonard.

“It’s not going to work, Bones! This thing can’t be cured with a hypo, alright?” He almost shouts.

“Why not, Jim? What is it that’s making you sick like this? What the hell is going on?” Leonard demands. Jim suddenly gets to his feet, surprisingly nimble for a man who’s just been viciously sick. Leonard follows him to his feet but Jim brushes past him into the bedroom before Leonard can stop him.

“Answer me, dammit!” Leonard calls after him as he follows the blond man, who stops and spins on his heels. He looks so hurt it’s breaking Leonard’s heart a little.

“What is it you want from me? Just leave it the fuck alone!” Jim yells.

“I can’t, Jim! Whatever this is, it’s eating you up!” Leonard replies, his voice just as loud.

“What’s it even to you?” Jim shouts, and that actually hurts Leonard.

“I damn well care about you, you idiot! Dammit, man, you’re my best friend and I always care about you! You’re just never making it very easy!” Leonard answers and Jim seems honestly lost at that. It’s like he can’t believe that Leonard would actually care about what happens to him. Leonard forces himself to take a deep breath and calm down.

“Jim. I know your life has been somewhat lacking people who cares. But I do, alright? I care how you’re doing and I care when you’re hurt, because I actually want you to be as happy as possible. And right now you’re not doing okay at all. So just, talk to me. Please.” Leonard says, and Jim deflates like the fight has just gone straight out of him. He looks at Leonard wordlessly for a couple of seconds before he staggers over to his bed and sits down heavily. Leonard cautiously follows and sits down next to him. Jim is looking at his hands rather than at him, and his brow is deeply furrowed.

“When I was thirteen I wasn’t doing so well. I’ve told you about my family. The only times mum seemed interested in my life at all was when I was acting up, so of course, that’s what I did. I got myself on academic probation and then I didn’t know what to do with my time, so I mainly just scoured the countryside doing whatever stupid stunts I could think off. I got arrested for trespassing. I was already flagged as a likely youth offender, so the authorities demanded a change in my attitude if I was going to avoid time in juvie for the arrest, even if it was just a minor offense. I had a long nice vidcall with my mum. It became clear that she wasn’t returning home. In my mind it translated to that I needed to up my game, that I needed to do something so bad that she’d have to come home. I started threatening her with all sorts of stupid things I could do. Somewhere in between my threats and pleads for just having a family like all the other kids, she picked up on what I was saying. Her response was that if I wanted family so bad, then she would arrange for me to stay with my aunt and uncle. I don’t think it ever registered with her that that wasn’t what I wanted at all.” Jim sighs while Leonard is getting a really bad feeling about Jim being sent to his aunt and uncle.

“At first, though, it was nice. The space travel was exciting. Being on another planet was fascinating. And my aunt and uncle were nice people who didn’t mind taking me in with their two kids. They were actually _there_ , you know? They had clear expectations of me performing to certain standards, and it was good to not just be floundering all the time, felling like no matter what I did it was wrong. They disregarded my tantrums but paid attention to what I was actually saying. It was the first time I felt like I belonged. So, all in all, it wasn’t that bad of a decision to send me there, even if it did hurt to know just how little my mum cared.” Jim’s voice has a bittersweet note to it. Leonard is captivated.

It’s so rare that Jim opens up without being half unconscious from liquor. It warms Leonard that Jim trusts him like this. But that warmth does not dispel the uneasy feeling in his gut. He halfway want to stop Jim from continuing so that he doesn’t have to face the fact that Jim was _there_ , that Jim… God, Leonard doesn’t know how to handle that thought, but he also realizes that he can’t stop Jim now, doesn’t actually want to, even if part of him really does.

“It was a good summer. It will always be a good summer, no matter what came after. I just can’t help feeling like I should have known it was too good to be true. When the harvest failed… and then the news that help wasn’t coming anytime soon. It was going to be winter long before we’d get new rations. You can’t believe the panic, everyone were scared, us kids too. No one knew exactly how much food we had left, but they were saying that it wasn’t going to be enough.” Jim frowns at his hands before he continues.

“When we heard about the stores being raided, we knew we needed to get there too. I went with my uncle because I was the oldest of the kids and my uncle figured one adult should stay with the younger ones. So we went to the stores. We had to start running when we saw others coming too. And then when we got there, it was crazy. People were literally fighting each other, showing and punching and kicking, grabbing for anything edible. We got away with a couple of boxes of cereals. I couldn’t breathe properly for days because I’d been shoved so hard. But we were so proud of our loot, that we got away with anything.” Jim makes a huffing sound like he’s disparaging their folly, but there’s a wistful look on his face too.

“After that the stores never reopened. People still needed food, so they started stealing from one another. Obviously no one was willing to let go of what they had and protected it fiercely, and people got hurt, badly hurt, or even killed. There were these gangs, grown men and big boys mostly, who worked together stealing food. I remember some of the boys from school stop random people on the street, demanding them to hand over whatever they had on them. Then the gangs started warring on each other, and we were all scared to get caught in the cross-fire.” Jim once again turns silent. Leonard can’t bring himself to say anything as he looks at Jim, though Jim isn’t looking back at him.

“My uncle died first, protecting us from a robber. Then my aunt and oldest cousin, because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. My youngest cousin was only five. I took him with me, tried to keep him safe when the riots started, and people started attacking the government building. It was madness. Nowhere was safe. The gangs were in conflict with each other, and then all the rest were done with being robbed and hurt, and everyone were angry that the government wasn’t doing anything, but no one could agree what to do. Families turned on each other like wild dogs fighting over a bone.” Jim’s blue eyes are clouded over, looking at ghosts only he can see.

“Kodos seemed like a saving grace, at first. He had a plan when no one else did. He took all the fear, and he gave it a direction. You won’t believe how easy it was for him to make people do whatever insanity he asked for. Why wouldn’t they? The world had already gone mad. At least Kodos introduced system to it. They rounded up families and runaways and stragglers that were alien, or African or South American of origin. Then Asians. My uncle was originally Indian, my cousin fit all the parameters of what they were looking for, even if I did not. He couldn’t go anywhere near the city. But we had to eat. Winter comes earlier on Tarsus than on earth, and it’s far colder. I tried to find whatever edible plants I could, but it was practically impossible. I tried to steal from the houses on the edge of the city, but people were careful with what little they had. I can’t really blame them. We were all desperate.” Jim sighs and shifts.

“Sometimes I’d meet kids on the street. Alone, halfway dead. Orphans. There was no one left to care about them, and they couldn’t take care of themselves. I brought them with me, because I couldn’t leave them behind. But it only made the strain for food so much harder. There were times when I wondered if I should just take my cousin and leave the camp. But I never did. They needed someone to take care of them. I was the only one of us who had any kind of experience fending for myself. I guess my crappy childhood came in handy after all.” Jim says it with a mirth that’s so out of place it makes Leonard cringe.

“Some of the kids I met were… not older, necessarily, but self-sufficient, even if they were on their own. I kept my distance. Someone who could take care of themselves was someone dangerous. But this one boy, he had a bread. A whole bread. It was food for everyone for days. It was impossible to ignore. So I tried to steal it. It was a futile endeavor, he was never far enough a way that I had any real chance of sneaking past him, and he was bigger and better fed than me. But instead of beating me into a pulp, he took pity on me. He told me there were ways to get food. If I washed up and learned how to smile to the right people. Blue eyes like mine were in high demand. I could get a bread and protein bars to boot. More, if I was up to it.” Jim’s voice is strained and conflicted.

Leonard wants to puke. The drunk conversation from last night is all too vivid in his memory. _Big, bright eyes. Pretty eyes_. The fact that the knowledge isn’t from some witness account Jim had hacked into physically hurts Leonard to think of. Jim looks at him like he’s begging Leonard to understand, like he’s afraid Leonard will judge him for this. Leonard wants to pull the other man in close, hold him tightly, soothe his pain and never let him go again, but he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to touch Jim right now, so he keeps himself in check.

“I had fourteen starving kids waiting on me, begging me to find something to eat, anything to eat. It was never really a choice. I had to bring home food.” Jim once again stops himself to gather his bearings.

“And the looks on their faces when I brought home the first loot was… indescribable. It was like I had brought them a piece of heaven. It made it worth it. Every time, it was worth it. Because it kept them alive. Not full, not even comfortable. But alive, and that was all any of us could hope for at that time. Waiting for winter to pass and the promised arrival of Starfleet and provisions, while resources grew more and more meagre. Some were turning to cannibalism. It was disturbing, and even more so because if someone had offered me a steak, I wouldn’t have asked where it came from, even _knowing_ … Not that it became relevant. Steaks weren’t offered to street orphans, no matter how pretty their eyes were.” Jim’s face is contorted in disgust and self-loathing. Leonard wants to cup Jim’s face and run his fingers over the creases, straightening out the stress lines and make the feelings go away too. It’s a relief when Jim’s face relaxes, even just minimally.

“The more time passed, the more quiet things turned. It was like this big apathy had come over everyone. Things were just so hard, somehow. Everything hurt, your stomach, your joints from the cold, everything. The cold and hunger also made you tired, like it was an insurmountable task to even move. But I had to work to get food. In between that, things seemed to blur. I lost track of hours at a time, even when I was trying to keep up the spirits amongst the kids. I would tell them stories, but sometimes I got lost in them myself. I kept telling them to hold on, that help was coming. I don’t know if I even believed it myself towards the end. Life before seemed surreal, like a dream of sorts. Something lost and intangible, impossible to ever have again. What’s left, really, when you can’t remember what you’re fighting for? When you can barely even remember how to fight? It might be survival, but it sure as hell isn’t living.” Jim has never appeared more awe-inspiringly strong than in that moment. For someone to live through that and still somehow regain his spirits and not just succumb to the traumas. Leonard had thought he understood what kind of a man Jim is, but he has grossly underestimated him.

“Then, somehow, it did end. I can’t actually remember much of what happened when Starfleet finally arrived. Only that they were vastly underprepared to take on what they found. There was some fighting in the center of the city. I kept my kids well out of it until it seemed like Starfleet had gained control. Then I brought my kids to Starfleet. But you know what? Starfleet wasn’t interested.” Jim says, and anger stirs in Leonard’s chest. How could Starfleet not have been interested in helping them? That makes no sense. Jim sighs.

“In hindsight, I can see why: literally everyone needed help. They’d clearly had no hint at how bad the situation really was. But at the time it just felt like one more betrayal. These people were meant to save us, not turn their backs on us. I kept my kids close to them, though, because they were _not_ going to leave us. We were camped on the main square for days while they frantically tried to organize emergency supplies and witness statements. I heard some of the commanding officers lamenting the lack of actual eyewitnesses to the orders behind what they’d finally gathered had happened, so I saw my chance. As orphans, we’d been in the thick of things back when everything turned to hell. That was why we’d turned orphans after all. Nine of us had heard the orders. So I told the officers that we could testify. But my kids needed care for. It took some time and bargaining, and now that I’m actually on the command track I can safely say that it wasn’t handled very well. But the situation was extreme. Fact of the matter was that they were all emotionally compromised just seeing what had happened, but they were the only ones capable of doing anything. In the end I made them take on my kids, give them the medical attention they needed and the proper provisions. I suppose it was selfish, to see to my own first when so many needed help, but it was all that had kept me going for so long, it was like having tunnel vision. Not exactly something I’m proud of today. But I got what I wanted.” Jim says.

Leonard almost wants to shout at him. Jim should be exceptionally proud of what he’s done. No thirteen year-old is supposed to take care of anyone other than themselves, in fact they’re supposed to have someone to do that for them too. And Jim offered himself up for fourteen other kids without a thought, negotiated for them to be saved and still he’s somehow finding reasons to blame himself. It’s infuriating, but Leonard has to keep calm, especially seeing as Jim doesn’t seem to be done with his story. Leonard knows that if Jim isn’t allowed to say everything now, he’s likely never going to say it.

“I knew that if Starfleet or anyone knew who I was, it was going to become a great fuss. George Kirk’s son, survivor of Tarsus, one of the Tarsus Nine. It could only ever become a circus. The only one of the kids who actually knew whom I was, was my cousin. And it wasn’t hard to convince him to keep quiet about it. I never told Starfleet my real name. I gave my statement and then I gave Starfleet the slip as soon as we got back to Earth. I made my way back to Iowa on my own.” Jim continues, ending his sentence with a sigh. A more thoughtful look had entered his eyes.

“I think what hurt me the most was the fact that no one seemed to care. The most reaction I got was Frank making comments on my outsides finally reflecting my insides. Mum, she just… ignored it. Except to lament her sister’s death. And blaming it on me. She never said as much, but the connection was clearly drawn between me showing up and her losing another family member. It made her pull away so far it was like I didn’t even exist. She couldn’t look at me, so she pretended not to see me, even when I was right in front of her. I ran away from home after a month or so. Made it as far as Washington before I just collapsed and was brought to a hospital. I lied about who I was and what had happened. I don’t think they believed me – Tarsus IV was hitting the medias big time by then – but before they could do anything about it I had made my escape. Apparently they hadn’t expected me to be able to leave for a while more. It taught me the strategic advantage of being underestimated.” Jim concludes his story with a shrug. Leonard doesn’t know what to say. It sounds like Jim just tried to make a moral out of the story, when it is really just pointless suffering that Jim in no way deserved. The quiet stretches out between them. Leonard knows he should say something, but he’s afraid to say the wrong thing.

“So now you know.” Jim finally says, vulnerable and yet so strong it’s goddam impossible.

“Jim…” Leonard starts and then stops. Jim is looking at him, building back up his defenses, Leonard can tell, and he hates it.

“I don’t want your pity.” Jim says and Leonard blinks.

“You don’t deserve pity.” Leonard says, and it’s clearly not what Jim expected to hear. Jim blinks, taking offense, so Leonard hurries to continue.

“You deserve respect. I don’t even understand how you’re alive. You give miracles a bad name, kid. Shit, that’s an understatement. You’re… I don’t even know what to say.” Leonard feels woefully inadequate, but Jim looks him like maybe he said the right thing in spite of that.

“Thanks, Bones.” Jim says in the smallest voice Leonard has ever heard Jim Kirk use.

“I haven’t done anything.” Leonard says, honestly confused.

“You listened. No one else did.” Jim says, and it strikes Leonard that it’s true. With his mother reacting the way she did, it’s likely that Jim has never spoken to anyone about what happened, because there has been no one to talk to. Even when he told Starfleet, it likely hadn’t been like this: it would have been a recounting of facts that were useful to the organization and spoken as part of a cold bargain for help for the kids under his care.

“Honestly that just makes me more angry than I can say. You deserve better.” Leonard says with feeling. Jim looks away, clearly uncomfortable with that declaration. Jim has self-esteem issues the size of the Andromeda galaxy.

“One day I am going to make you believe that.” Leonard grumbles and then sighs.

“You shouldn’t do an exam on this, Jim. It’s not right.” He says, allowing Jim a pass on the topic. Jim straightens and squares his shoulders but he’s not really shielding, he’s just picking himself up.

“I have to.” He says.

“No you don’t. It’s torture making yourself go through that.” Leonard argues, annoyed with Jim’s constant belief in how he has to bend over backwards and go with whatever impossible demand is thrown his way.

“I have no valid reason to change subject.” Jim says tiredly, running a hand through his hair.

“No valid reason… did I not just hear you tell me what happened? How is that not a valid reason to change exam subject?” Leonard asks. Jim looks pleadingly at him, and it’s the blatant emotion in his eyes that makes Leonard stop his rant.

“Bones, they can’t know that. You know the statistics, right? More than a third of the survivors killed themselves. My cousin did, as did several of my other kids. Almost all the rest are hospitalized. And it’s like that all the way around with Tarsus IV survivors. I know you know this. Starfleet doesn’t take cadets that’s been on Tarsus IV. They’re considered emotionally compromised by default. If Starfleet finds out I was there, they’re going to kick me out. And I can’t go through that. I know I complain that I shouldn’t have joined, but really, it’s the first thing that’s given me purpose in years. So just, please, Bones. Don’t tell them.” Jim begs and the fact that Jim is reduced to begging sits wrong with Leonard.

“Jim. I ain’t gonna tell anyone. I wouldn’t. I happen to take confidentiality seriously, even if it’s not in a professional setting. Hell, you know this.” Leonard assures him, and Jim visibly relax.

“I do. And I’m sorry. I just…” Jim says, but Leonard waves him off.

“I get it. You don’t share much, and that’s alright. I do appreciate you telling me, though. You should never have had to carry that around on your own.” Leonard says. They fall quiet for a while, just sitting next to one another, but it’s an oddly comfortable silence. Oddly, because Jim is still broken, and Leonard is still reeling, but they have each other and for now, that’s enough.

“I don’t know what to do.” Jim finally says in the silence. He isn’t sounding lost or damaged, he just sounds tired.

“Well, good thing I do.” Leonard says. Jim looks at him.

“Really?” He asks, just a hint of the famous Kirk humor in his voice. It does Leonard more good to hear that humor return than he can put into words.

“Yes. You’re going to do what you do best. You’re gonna make a strategy so shockingly brilliant it’ll have the examiners on my desk for a heart attack. You’ll show them just what kind of imbeciles they were when they let that situation develop, and you’ll show them how to never repeat that failure.” Leonard says, surprised at how sure he feels of his words.

“Just like that, huh?” Jim asks, humor more dominant in his voice.

“You’re supposed to be some kind of a genius, aren’t you? It shouldn’t be too hard for you.” Leonard says. Jim smiles, actually smiles, and briefly leans against Leonard in a wordless show of appreciation.

“I’d better get started then.” Jim says as he gets back to his feet.

“Damn right you’d better.” Leonard follows, and walks over to pick up his communicator.

“What are you doing?” Jim asks.

“Calling in sick for work.” Leonard says. Jim frowns.

“You don’t have to do that.” He says. Leonard sighs.

“If you think I’m gonna let you deal with this on your own, you’re a good deal stupider than I thought.” He says, hitting the call button before Jim can make further arguments. Jim doesn’t say anything else and just leaves the room to get back to work.


	3. Devil's advocat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again! More H/C for all involved :D  
> Also, only one more chapter and an epilogue after this.  
> Enjoy!

“Jim, you’ve gotta sleep.” Leonard says to his roommate, who is bend over his PADD, eyes trained to the screen.

“Huh?” He asks intelligently, looking up.

“It’s half past two in the morning. You’ve gotta get some sleep if you’re going to survive tomorrow.” Leonard says.

“I need to get this done.” Jim deflects, looking back at his PADD.

“As your doctor I disagree. You need to go to bed. Don’t make me hypo you, kid. You know I will.” Leonard says, his voice soft in spite of the threat. Jim looks hesitant.

“I don’t think I could sleep even if I went to bed.” Jim admits.

“Do you want me to give you a sedative? It doesn’t have to be a hypo.” Leonard is showing good-will by being willing to compromise on the hypospray.

“No. I don’t like not being able to wake. I…” Jim looks conflicted, like there’s something he wants but isn’t sure how to ask for.

“Whatever you need, we can figure it out. You just have to tell me.” Leonard says patiently. Usually he doesn’t have this kind of patience with people, not even his patients, but Jim is too vulnerable right now and too important for him not to be.

“This is going to sound stupid. But can I sleep in your bed? I just don’t want to be alone right now.” It’s a surprising request and Leonard knows he can’t keep the surprise from showing on his face. But he’s not adverse to the idea, probably because a protective part of him still wants to haul Jim into his arms and comfort him like he would Joanna. Or, not exactly like he would Joanna, but something like that. Leonard’s not sure what to make of the instinct that’s somehow neither fatherly nor sexual, he only knows that he’s fiercely protective of the younger man who’s been through too much already.

“Sure. If it makes you sleep, even for a little, it doesn’t bother me.” Leonard says before Jim can work himself into a macho rant on how he doesn’t actually need the comfort that Leonard’s more than willing to provide.

“Really?” Jim seems surprised Leonard’s response. Once again Leonard has to remind himself how many times Jim has been turned away. It makes him sad.

“Get changed and get to bed.” Leonard says instead of answering. Jim gets up, like he still can’t quite believe that Leonard agreed, and sets about turning off the lights while Leonard goes to brush his teeth. It’s the kind of situation that could easily become awkward, and Leonard is determined to not make it so.

He leaves the bathroom just as Jim gets in the bedroom and Leonard sends the other man a calming smile. Jim returns it before heading to the bathroom while Leonard changes into his usual t-shirt. He briefly considers wearing pajamas pants, but then it would be oddly conspicuous since he never usually does, and anyway, it’s just Jim. So he grabs a pillow from Jim’s bed, because like hell he’s gonna struggle over pillows at his age, and scoots into his bed so that he lies against the wall.

Jim notices the extra pillow as he comes out of the bathroom and smiles briefly before stripping out of his clothes. Like Leonard, Jim doesn’t try to change his usual sleeping attire, which means he climbs into bed with Leonard wearing nothing but boxer briefs. For reasons that Leonard deliberately doesn’t delve into, it feels a bit daunting have a mostly naked Jim in bed with him.

It takes a some wriggling for them both the end up comfortable on the single bed. There’s no way to avoid touching each other, and Jim seems to accept this by deliberately snuggling into Leonard. Leonard finds himself a bit unsure what to do, but finally gives in to the need of putting his arms around Jim. It really is more comfortable, and he’s wanted to do this all day. Jim seems to relax as he does so, so Leonard takes that as a sign that it’s okay.

It’s surprisingly comforting. There’s just something reassuring about having Jim right there with him, wrapped around him so closely they’d need to be doing something a little more interesting than sleeping to be closer. Jim is warm against him, and his skin feels soft wherever they touch. Leonard is lying on his back, like he always does when he sleeps, but now Jim is halfway on top of him, having molded himself into Leonard’s side, resting his head against the crook of his neck – so much for the extra pillow – and having an arm slung over his chest and stomach.

His hand has somehow found the hem of Leonard’s shirt, and he’s clinging on to in an almost childlike manner. It pains Leonard to acknowledge that the brilliant man next to him never had a childhood; that he never had a parent to climb into bed with when he had a nightmare; that when his life turned to actual hell, no one had come through for him. The thought makes him tighten his embrace a little and Jim sighs gently into his neck in response, so low Leonard wouldn’t have noticed if he couldn’t feel the breath tickle warmly against his skin. It’s intimate in a way Leonard can’t remember having experienced in many years, not since the early days of his relationship with Jocelyn.

And even then, he can’t remember having ever felt this kind of almost all-consuming need to be there for someone that he has with Jim. Of course, Jocelyn was never hurt in the way Jim has been. But even that doesn’t seem to quite account for the difference.

It seems a little odd that he feels this much more strongly about his best friend than he ever did for his ex-wife.

The only time he’s felt anything that can rival the strength of this fierce protectiveness Jim invokes in him for Jocelyn was when she had his custody of Joanna withdrawn, and then it had been hatred, pure and simple.

Leonard can’t even imagine hating Jim. Jim is frustrating and oftentimes self-destructive and even so he makes Leonard feel alive, like there’s more to life than what he’s come to expect of it. Like there really is nothing that can’t be done, at least not when Jim sets his mind to it. Leonard knows Jim better than he’s probably ever known anyone before in his life.

It isn’t really about the specifics of the traumas that Jim has trusted him enough to share with him, because for their daily life it’s enough to know that Jim has been deeply hurt in his past, and specifics has no bearing on that.

Rather what makes Leonard know Jim so well are all the little things. Leonard knows how Jim likes his coffee; that Jim’s most academically productive in the morning but best engaged in physical activities in the afternoon; that if Jim answers a question of how he’s doing with just ‘ _fine’_ then he’s likely to be just that, but if he says _‘I’m fine’_ then he isn’t.

He knows that Jim will change his entire schedule for any stranger who asks for his help; he knows that Jim likes twenty century poetry but prefers modern literature; that Jim likes old classical jazz and hates space dub.

He knows in an instance when Jim is bullshitting and when he’s being genuine. He knows the way Jim throws himself onto his bed when he returns home satisfied but tired versus tired and irritated; he can tell apart the patterns Jim drums on the kitchen counter when he’s frustrated and when he’s happy.

In short, Leonard knows Jim almost frighteningly well. He has no doubt that Jim knows him just as well, and perhaps it’s the mutual understanding that’s the most frightening of all. Even in the best days of his marriage to Jocelyn, they never could match this level of understanding. And there he goes again, comparing his friendship with Jim to his marriage to Jocelyn.

But in all honesty, it is the only thing that’s even comparable. Leonard has never been in _any_ kind of relationship that was as tight as the friendship he has with Jim.

Looking at their daily interactions, the way they rely on each other, fight with each other and take care of each other, it’s really only the fact that they aren’t sexually involved that keeps it from being an actual relationship. And right now, lying in bed with Jim wrapped around him, even that line seems a bit blurry.

At some point in Leonard’s musings, Jim’s hand has let go of the hem of his shirt and is now snuggled under his shirt, resting against Leonard’s bare stomach. Once Leonard becomes aware of it, he can’t tune the sensation out. Jim’s hand is warm against Leonard’s skin, his fingers slightly pressing into him in a light but firm grasp. Suddenly it’s all he can think about what it would feel like if Jim moved his hand and caressed his skin. Leonard can’t deny the thrill that spikes through him at the thought.

He’d be lying if he said he’d never considered what it would be like to cross that invisible boundary between them, to reach out and touch and revel in the smooth skin and firm muscles of Jim’s body. What it would feel like to be touched by Jim in return. And with Jim’s warm body stretched out under his hands, it’s even harder to deny the thoughts and the want threatening to break through.

Then he remembers what Jim told him earlier that day. About the way he’d let people rape him for food, about the traumas he’s still carrying, and Leonard immediately feels sick. How can he even think about touching Jim after such a confession? Jim has no idea of his attraction, and that somehow makes it worse. Jim has trusted him to keep him safe while he sleeps, and Leonard is repaying that trust by lusting after him? By enjoying the way his skin feels against him?

That’s just plain wrong. He can feel himself stiffen and slightly pull away from Jim, because lying like this feels like he’s taking advantage of Jim, and he can’t be another person who does that to him. He has to be the person who won’t abuse his trust. Leonard realizes that Jim’s awake when the other man pulls a bit away from him, cranking his neck to be able to look at him. Leonard immediately feels like a kid who’s gotten caught.

“Are you okay? I can go back to my own bed, I don’t mean to be an imposition.” Jim says, and Leonard feels doubly bad. Jim doesn’t need to feel unwanted tonight of all nights.

“You’re not. I’m sorry. I just got stuck up on a stupid thought, it has nothing to do with you. You don’t have to go unless you want to.” Leonard says in a low voice.

“You sure?” Jim asks, and Leonard nods.

“I wouldn’t have said it otherwise. And Jim, I don’t want you to doubt that I’ll always be here, and you’ll always be welcome.” Leonard says quietly, but no less fervent for that.

Jim goes silent at that, leaning his head down against Leonard’s shoulder again while Leonard tightens his grip around him once more to reaffirm his words. It feels so shockingly _right_ to have Jim in his arms like this. It feels good and true and homely. Even though Leonard knows he isn’t entitled to feel that way, he still does. Jim interrupts his thoughts.

“You have to promise me. If I get to be too much, tell me so before it’s too late. I know I’m a mess – god, do I know – and I know I’m not easy to be around. I just… I can’t stand the thought of you walking away like everyone else has. So I need you to tell me if I’m scaring you off before it’s too late for me to do anything about it.” Jim says it like it’s a joke, but it does nothing to hide the raw fear hidden in his voice. Leonard can’t help it, he needs to physically to do something to placate Jim’s worries, so he starts gently stroking Jim’s arms where he’s holding him.

“Jim. You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not gonna be scared off.” Leonard says in a low voice.

“Everyone is. Everyone has been. I don’t know what it is about me, if I did I’d change it. But people don’t actually like me very much. I guess I’m just an asshole or something.” Jim says.

“You’re not.” Leonard says, but it only seems to anger Jim.

“Of course I am! I’m selfish, I’m arrogant, I’ve failed most things in my life. My mum couldn’t stand me, my brother disliked my and my stepdad downright hated me. You’re not supposed to make your family hate you. If you do that, something’s _wrong_ with you.” Jim said. Leonard stopped stroking him soothingly in favor of gripping Jim tightly, pushing him away enough that he could look Jim in the eyes.

“Now you shut your idiot mouth for a moment. The only thing that’s wrong with you is that somehow you fail to see your own worth. You’re always placing the blame at the wrong place. Jim, your mum couldn’t stand you because she couldn’t stand herself. It was never about you, it was about _her_ inability to deal with loss like a grown ass woman. If she’d had even a lick of sense in her head, she’d have realized what a brilliant person her youngest son is. That bastard she left you with was a downright psychopath with the way he tortured you and kept charming her. He was sick in the head, Jim, and you never, not once, deserved or did anything to warrant that kind of treatment. Your brother didn’t do right by you either. He took his cues from the way your mum and stepdad mistreated you and thought that that was okay, that that was acceptable. It wasn’t, Jim. But your brother never disliked you personally, he just didn’t know any other way to treat you. All of these things that you blame yourself for, they weren’t your fault. They were Frank’s fault and ultimately they were your mother’s fault. Do you understand me?” Leonard declares while Jim appears almost shocked, but he nods, wide-eyed. It seems like tears are threatening to finally overcome Jim, and really, Leonard has no idea how he hasn’t broken down already. So he pulls Jim back into his arms, and Jim finally does start to cry. Leonard leans his head against Jim’s, rocking him as the younger man sobs quietly into Leonard’s shirt.

“It’s okay, Jim. It’s okay to hurt over this. It doesn’t make you less strong or less brave. Nothing could. Just like nothing could make me leave you. Hell, I’m willing to follow you into that disease ridden black vacuum in a damn tin can. You’re going to need someone to keep you from getting every alien disease out there. You damn well better believe I’m gonna be there with a full array of hypos just for you.” He whispers into Jim’s soft hair while Jim’s sobs slowly dies down. He keeps whispering assurances until Jim’s breath evens out in sleep. Even then Leonard doesn’t let go of the other man but falls asleep himself cradling Jim in his arms. In spite of the emotional roller coaster, Leonard can’t remember when he last felt so content just lying in his bed.

 

* * *

 

Jim is deceptively calm and centered the following morning, and Leonard allows him to be. With the exam in front of him, Leonard doesn’t want to disturb Jim’s equilibrium any further. Instead he tries to treat it like any other morning, disregarding the fact that they wake up completely entangled in each other, and morning wood suddenly become a different kind of issue when you find yourself in a somewhat compromising position with your best friend. But Leonard’s no blushing virgin, he’s a grown man and a doctor too, so he can deal with that just fine, thank you very much. After that minor incident, they carry on like nothing’s happened. Jim makes coffee while Leonard showers. They both settle down for breakfast, which Leonard prods Jim to eat with usual stubbornness and they exchange light banter over the meal. Leonard doesn’t remark on how little Jim actually eats. He can’t really blame him for being having little appetite. Leonard does the dishes while Jim uses the bathroom to shower and ready for the day. They both settled down with their PADDS to read on their respective upcoming exams. It’s a completely routine morning, and it does seem to settle Jim somewhat. But the sense of calm doesn’t last forever. As the hour drags closer to eleven o’clock, Leonard can practically feel Jim’s restless uneasiness. As the hour hits ten, Leonard puts aside his PADD. He knows Jim is aware of him, because he’s absolutely certain Jim stopped reading thirty minutes ago and is now just sitting tensely waiting, like a man on death row. Jim finally looks up to meet his glance.

“Didn’t your mama teach you it’s rude to stare?” He asks. Leonard hides a smile.

“You’re one to talk ‘bout manners.” Leonard drawls. Jim briefly smiles before his face falls back into a frown. Leonard can read his concerns clear as day.

“Where’s that darn bluster when you need it? Don’t start second guessing yourself now.” Leonard says.

“I’m not.” Jim says back, too quickly.

“Good.” Leonard just says, willing it to be true because it has to be. And it seems to be working, because Jim straightens and seems more like his usual cocky self than just a minute before.

“I’m gonna be there when you get back out.” Leonard says. Jim looks like he’s getting one of his bad ideas.

“Actually, you could just be there at the exam.” He says. Leonard raises an eyebrow.

“What?” He asks.

“The exams are public, at least for Starfleet personnel.” Jim says. Leonard hesitates.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be there. But it might look just a bit suspicious for you to drag me along. It’s not really done.” Leonard says.

“Who care about what’s done?” Jim asks with a grin, and there’s the Jim he hates to love.

“I know you don’t. But there’s gonna be an admiral. He’s going to question it. It’s what those bastards do for fun.” Leonard says.

“So, we say I had an allergic reaction this morning and you’re there to make sure I don’t suddenly collapse. I’ve got enough weird allergies that it’s believable.” Jim says with a shrug.

“Maybe we should just call it off on grounds of a medical emergency. I can fake your records if you want.” Leonard offers, unashamedly abusing his position. It probably says something that he doesn’t even hesitate to gamble his career to get Jim out of an unpleasant exam. Jim blinks in surprise but then shakes his head.

“No. You’d risk your license to do that. And they’d just reschedule with the same topic. I don’t feel the need to drag this out. But thanks.” Jim says. Leonard thinks it’s a sensible and mature answer, but he’d have felt bad if he hadn’t offered anyway.

“You sure you even want me there?” Leonard asks. Jim loses a bit of his bravado.

“Yeah, I mean… you don’t have to. I know you could use the time to prepare for your own exam.” Jim says. Leonard shakes his head.

“It’s nothing that can’t wait forty minutes.” He says, and the look in Jim’s eyes assures him that it’s the right decision to go with him.

“Alright. We’d better get moving, then.” Jim says, the resolve clearly forced, but they both get to their feet. Jim straightens his uniform while Leonard fastens his medical badge to his. He doesn’t usually carry the medical badge when he isn’t working, but it’ll enforce the image that he’s there as a doctor rather than a friend. As they make their way through the sunny campus, Leonard isn’t sure which if them is more nervous, him or Jim. 

Before, this had only been one of the most difficult exams on the command track. Now it’s a matter of whether or not Jim is going to kicked out the academy.

Leonard isn’t sure what he’s going to do if that happens. He doesn’t really have anywhere else to go, not after the divorce and not if he wants to regain any kind of custody over Joanna. But the thought of letting Jim leave without him seems plain silly, like there’s no way Jim is going anywhere without him. Also, he’s promised Jim that he’s going to follow him anywhere, even into space, and he’s damn well going to honor that promise. So if Jim gets kicked out, Leonard is leaving too.

It’s bizarre in a way to pin his entire future to a single person. But Leonard can’t see any other solution that he can live with. So this is a struggle for both of them, then.

Leonard knows better than to say this. While it might be comforting to Jim to know that Leonard supports him like that, Jim also knows about his situation with Joanna, and he’ll feel the pressure to ensure Leonard’s future with his daughter acutely. He’s under enough pressure as it is, Leonard doesn’t want to add to that. Especially as it isn’t even sure to be relevant. They don’t say anything much to each other as they wait outside the examination room. The tension seems overwhelming. Finally the door is opened by Jim’s professor.

“Kirk, come on in.” He says, sounding pleasant enough. He looks a little surprised when Leonard follows him.

“What are you doing, cadet?” He asks, not really hostile, but not very welcoming either.

“Cadet Kirk had an allergic reaction earlier this morning. I would have demanded he go to medical for observation, but he was pretty damn adamant about going to this exam. We compromised that I could come along to make sure he doesn’t have any adverse reactions.” Leonard says levelly. It isn’t until Leonard has stopped talking that the professor notices the medical batch that marks him as a doctor.

“Ah. Is the cadet unable to go through this exam in your medical opinion?” He asks, polite once more.

“I’m fine.” Jim says pointedly, and perfectly in character, so Leonard ignores him.

“I shouldn’t think there’s any reason he can’t do his exam. It’s more of a precaution than anything else, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s had trouble in the aftermath. Still, we’ll know it pretty quickly if something happens. Until then I suggest you carry out your examination.” Leonard says, and the professor nods. Leonard takes a chair at the edge of the room behind the examiners while Jim is introduced to admiral Barnett, whom Leonard knows primarily as the dean of the Academy. Also, he might be acquainted with his house, but that’s not something he’s planning on making known to the admiral.

Leonard sits back as the examination begins. Leonard has the memory of Jim’s recount of his experiences on Tarsus IV in very clear memory. Not surprising since it happened only yesterday. Still, Leonard has a feeling that Jim’s painfully honest retelling of some of the worst experiences of his life will never leave his memory. It had been haunting in its sheer desperation and hopelessness.

The recount Jim is making now is the polar opposite of that. Jim’s whole demeanor is the epitome of cool professionalism, and his stance in front of the two examiners shows a confident, serious cadet and future officer. Nothing like a wrecked Tarsus IV survivor could ever be supposed to be.

Leonard can’t help but feel proud as Jim easily navigates through the dual story of Starfleet command’s decision-making process and responses and how the situation developed and escalated on Tarsus IV. Jim goes through the story in an unrushed manner that belies what he must be really feeling. Had it not been for the way Jim’s eyes occasionally flicker to lock on Leonard when he clinically addresses situations that affected him personally, like the way the riots started, Leonard wouldn’t have had any idea that Jim is anything less than perfectly comfortable with what he’s doing.

Once he’s gone through the main facts, Jim launches into an analysis that leaves Leonard almost breathless in its ruthless dressing down of even the most politically touchy facets of the matter. It’s a brutal dissection that leaves the whole complex problem exposed in boxes of intergalactic financial politics, structural prejudice on every level from planets to federation government, and abnormally dysfunctional communication procedures that ultimate allowed an Earth colony to turn to dictatorship and genocide and the federation to send only minimal help at the latest possible date without properly knowing what situation they were inserting themselves into.

It’s clear to Leonard that he’s not the only one taken aback with Jim’s nonchalant way of tearing every illusion of dignity about the matter to pieces. Once his cutting analysis is over, Jim turns to his own strategic take on the matter, and Leonard is sure he’s not the only one in the room holding his breath for what Jim might suggest.

He’s right to do so.

From the minute he begins, it’s clear that Jim’s not going to put up with any bullshit from his examiners, and more than anything it feels like he’s giving them a lecture on all the things Starfleet Command is doing wrong and needs to do better. That’s ballsy, Leonard has to admit. It’s also awe-inspiring to watch Jim calmly chew Starfleet up and spit them back out.

But what truly impresses Leonard is how there’s never even a hint of resentment in Jim’s voice. What could have been the bitter rant of a wronged person is instead a rational and doable strategy that has the potential to prevent future situations from escalating like Tarsus IV did.

Jim’s proposition encompasses everything from structural changes in Starfleet protocol that addresses key problems in the way Starfleet communicates with federation planets and colonies – changes that alone could have prevented much of the tragedy from happening – to making discursive changes in the way Starfleet internally talks about conflicts so as to better allow them to understand and differentiate between different scenarios. Even his concrete rundown of different decisions that could and _should_ have been made on grounds of what information they did have available in the actual situation, from the admiralty to the commanding officers of the USS Enterprise-C which responded to the crisis, is leaves no room for discussion that Starfleet and the federation failed. In the end, Leonard feels the need to applause when Jim concludes the forty minute lecture in which neither the professor nor the admiral had gotten many words in edgeways.

“So if I could do things differently, that’s what I would have done. I can’t see any way that the disaster could have been prevented entirely, what with the limited information that was available. That is why I chose to spend so much time emphasizing on the structural level of the problem. It does appear odd to me that few of these procedures have been reevaluated in the eleven years since the incident, if for no other reason than that many of these are integral to the way Starfleet operates and should as such be frequently questioned so as to optimize our operability.” Jim says with a cheeky smile. Leonard supposes it’s a good thing the alarm chimes to alert them that Jim’s time is up. It takes a moment for the examiners to gather their bearings.

“Thank you, cadet Kirk. You’ll get the result in fourteen days.” Admiral Barnett finally gets out and Jim salutes them, leaving the room. Leonard gets up and joins him as he reaches the door.

Jim keeps a straight back until the moment the door closes behind them. The hallway outside is empty, and Leonard is glad for it, because Jim is visibly shaken. Leonard takes Jim hand, meaning to squeeze it briefly, but Jim holds on to him like it’s the only thing anchoring him to Earth. Leonard looks questioningly at Jim, but Jim has his eyes closed in a rare moment of unguarded discomfort. So Leonard doesn’t attempt to let go of Jim’s hand, not even when Jim opens his eyes and smiles.

“Well, that was uncomfortable.” Jim says in cheerful understatement. Leonard can’t help it, he starts to laugh. These last days has been a nightmare. He needs the release.

“Christ, kid. You’re something other.” Leonard says.

“Well, I just did what you suggested.” Jim says, and Leonard couldn’t have kept the affectionate smile off his face if he’d been paid to.

“And you did, just like that. Damn, I wish I could have seen their faces.” He says and this time it’s Jim who laughs, edged with hysteria.

“That was something I would have liked on camera.” He agrees.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Leonard suggests and Jim nods. Neither lets go of the other’s hand. It’s much too reassuring to keep Jim’s hand in his for Leonard to really be bothered by it. Besides. They might still be leaving the academy anyway.

 


	4. You have been weighed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys, the last chapter!  
> It's really been such a joy doing this, not least because I've gained a COMPLETELY AMAZING WONDERFUL BETA in Canon_Is_Relative.  
> I've always seen how other authors rant and rave about how great their beta's are and I've never really gotten it, but oh my gosh, guys, having a beta is THE best. She's definitely whipped this chapter and the epilogue into shape, and I'm so grateful for it.  
> She'll also be going over the previous chapters to clean it up a bit, but that'll be a work in progress, even if this thing is officially done. I'll add a tagg once that is finished.  
> So without further ado, here is the end of this little arc.

“Bones!” The call reaches Leonard from across the quad, and looking over he finds Jim enthusiastically waving at him as he runs to catch up with him.

“Easy there, Jim, I ain’t going nowhere.” Leonard grumbles as Jim skids to a stop that has him practically falling over Leonard, one arm thrown over his shoulder. Jim just grins sunnily at him and ignores him. Leonard can’t say that he’s too bummed that Jim doesn’t remove his arm.

“How does it feel to be a free man?” Jim asks, knowing that Leonard has just had his final exam of the semester. Leonard raises an eyebrow.

“You mean how does it feel to have clinic again tomorrow?” He asks wryly, but he smiles all the same as Jim drags him along towards their apartment, still doing nothing to put any sort of distance between them.

“Like you don’t love getting to rant at the unfortunate cadets under your care for being stupid.” Jim says teasingly. Leonard shoves him lightly, careful not to push Jim off of him.

“You watch who you’re calling unfortunate, or we’ll see how you like your next physical. I’m sure you’re gettin’ behind on your vaccines.” Leonard threatens and Jim hastily holds up his free hand in a motion to stop Leonard and show his surrender.

“I meant of course those very, very lucky souls who gets you as their doctor.” Jim hastily amends, laughter bubbling under his voice.

“That’s more like it.” Leonard agrees. They’ve reached their apartment, and Leonard can’t help but be disappointed that Jim has to let go to get through the door. He takes off his shoes – and picks up Jim’s, which have been thrown hazardously in the middle of the floor as Jim passed by – and walks into their living room where he sits down on the couch with a relieved sigh. For all that he isn’t on vacation quite yet, it’s nice to have the exams dealt with. He can only thank heaven for the fact that none of their other exams have been in any way traumatic.

“So how did it go?” Jim calls from the kitchen where he’s busy with something.

“Fine.” Leonard answers, listening to the sounds of Jim bustling about. He’s always aware of Jim these days. He always was, to some degree, but since the intense days around Jim’s history command exam, his awareness has been even more heightened. Leonard’s mind is always concerning itself with Jim now, where he is or what he’s doing, even when they aren’t together. Hell, he’s thinking about it even when he can plainly see the answers for himself. Jim appears in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning a hand against the frame. Leonard can’t stop himself from tracing the line of his arm, muscles standing out with his body weight pushed against his hand.

“Fine, really? I heard Cassidy and Donovan complain about how tough it was.” Jim says, drawing Leonard’s attention back to his face. You can’t tell that he has something like the response to the historic command exam hanging over his head unless you already know something might be worrying him. Leonard can only faintly detect the hints of tension around his eyes and in his shoulders, which seemed to have settled in almost permanently.

“They’re still young. Exams seemed like the end of the world to me too first time I went through med school.” Leonard says, making Jim laugh.

“What are you, eighty?” He asks. Leonard rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t mean…” He starts, which only makes Jim wave him off.

“No, no! Give me more of your sage wisdom, old man!” Jim jokes. Leonard raises his eyebrows at him.

“Maybe if I did you’d carry out less of your reckless, foolhardy schemes.” Leonard says.

“Says the man following me into every one of them.” Jim says with an eye roll of his own, dumping himself down in the couch next to Leonard. Leonard hadn’t even really noticed that he’d crossed the room.

It’s one of those things that keeps happening, lately. One minute they’re on opposite sides of the room, the next they’re somehow next to one another for no reason at all. Not that he doesn’t want to be closer to Jim, because he does. It’s just that it seems to have gotten a bit out of control lately. It’s like the distance between them is a physical thing that pulls and pushes at Leonard. The need to minimize that distance seems ever present, and he doesn’t think he’s the only one doing it.

“I come under protest.” Leonard says and Jim just huffs at that.

“I’d be more worried if you didn’t protest.” Jim says, turning on the couch to put his feet on Leonard’s lap. Leonard makes a token swat at them, but ends up settling his hands around Jim’s ankles. They both fall silent, content to just sit in each other’s company. But for all that they’re content enough, there is an edge to everything they’re doing. It’s like a low current is buzzing under Leonard’s skin every time they touch or look at each other just a bit too long. Leonard walks around with this feeling that he has to wait for the results of the historic command exam to act on it, but he isn’t sure what he’s going to do when they arrive.

What he wants to do is admit his feelings and pursue an actual romantic relationship with Jim. He wants that regardless of what the results of the exam is, and so, in a way, it doesn’t make sense to be waiting, except Leonard tells himself that he wants that whole mess to be resolved, or at least as resolved as its going to be until Jim has finally processed everything that’s happened to him, which might not be for years, if ever.

Then there’s also the fact that he can’t help but wonder if admitting his feelings is what would actually be best for Jim. Jim’s been used and abandoned so many times. Leonard can’t add to that, and he also can’t stand the thought that Jim might accept his advances simply to keep Leonard from leaving him. While he knows that he would never be able to bring himself to leave Jim, he isn’t so sure that Jim understands that.

Leonard doesn’t think of Jim as damaged by his experiences, but it’s a fact that Jim has both trust and abandonment issues, and Leonard can’t in any way afford to use that against him. On the other hand, Jim’s issues don’t exclude the possibility that he could be genuinely interested. And it’s that possibility that keeps Leonard in this limbo. In the end, he resigns himself to wait and hope that somehow, his problems will solve themselves.

“Hey, Bones?” Jim asks and Leonard looks up from where he’s been starring emptily at Jim’s feet.

“Yeah?” He asks, taking in Jim’s expression. He looks nonchalant enough, but it’s a carefully constructed expression that Leonard recognizes as being tightly controlled.

“Gaila keeps hounding me about the summer gala.” Jim says and Leonard frowns. The summer gala is a large affair for all the students at the academy, an end of year event that no one wants to miss. He’s not surprised that Gaila’s excited about it, most cadets are. What he can’t figure out is why it’s got Jim so wound up.

“Last year you were hounding me, and turnabout is fair play.” Leonard reminds him. Jim smiles briefly, but then looks down at his lap again.

“I just don’t want to make promises that we can’t keep.” He says, and it all clicks into place. Leonard hasn’t actually told Jim that he’ll be leaving with him if it comes to that, at least not in so many words, but he’s sure that Jim’s gotten the message anyway. And the summer gala takes place after the results are in, so if they end up kicking him – them – out, then they won’t be going to the gala. And Jim is nothing if not faithful to his word.

“It’ll all come out in the wash, Jim, you’ll see. I’m sure we won’t disappoint Gaila.” He says and Jim sends him a grateful smile that makes him wish he could actually promise more.

 

* * *

 

 

They’re both on edge when the day arrives. Jim keeps refreshing his mail, and Leonard is reorganizing the kitchen drawers, a useless task in the greater scheme of things.

As the day progresses, they both become more and more irritable to the point where they have to accept that they can’t be in the same room without snapping at each other. Leonard exiles himself to the bedroom while Jim occupies himself in the kitchen, no doubt destroying the newly sorted drawer system if the sounds are anything to go by. Leonard knows the exact moment the results arrive, because there’s the sound of something clattering to the floor and then there is complete and utter silence for the next minute. Almost afraid of what he’ll find, Leonard hesitantly approaches the kitchen.

Jim is pale, staring at the PADD in his hands with a stricken look on his face. There’s a large wooden spoon lying at his feet. Jim’s motionlessness and pallor don’t bode well.

“Jim?” For just a moment, Leonard imagines that the academy has sent Jim a notice of the immediate withdrawal of his position as cadet on grounds of emotional trauma, and Leonard’s mind runs amok trying to figure out what they’re going to do. Then Jim looks up, his eyes wide, but there’s beginning of a confused smile on his lips. It’s like he doesn’t know how to react.

“Jim, goddammit, what did you get?” Leonard asks anxiously.

“I got an A.” Jim’s voice is shaking and Leonard almost feels limp with relief.

“And the score?”

“A hundred. They gave me a hundred and a commendation for rethinking Starfleet protocol. They thought I was right.” Jim’s voice is detached, conflicting emotions battling to win out on his face. He has just done something no one has done before, and it’s a validation of the observations Jim, as a survivor, has made. That has to feel good. On the other hand, it’s a victory born from immense suffering, and his strategy came too late to save the people he’d cared about.

Leonard doesn’t care for conflicting emotions, he hardly even cares about the grade or score. All he cares about is that Jim is going to stay at Starfleet with him and that he’s beaten his own demons. Without a thought, Leonard crosses the room and pulls Jim into a tight embrace.

Jim lets the PADD fall, careless of what damage the drop might cause, to throw his own arms around Leonard. They stay like that as the minutes tick by, a multitude of feelings from happiness to sadness to relief coursing through them, keeping them tied together.

Leonard’s aware that he’ll need to either break the embrace or do something about it soon, or it will become just another odd and somewhat awkward moment between them, but right now he’s willing to forget and just relish having Jim close and safe. Finally he pulls back, not really letting go but allowing for some space between them.

“I told you you could do it.” Leonard says fondly and Jim’s blue eyes look truly alive for the first time since the whole mess started.

“Of course I could.” Jim says.

Leonard laughs. “ _Now_ you get cocky about it.”

“They did just give me a hundred _and_ a commendation. I can be cocky if I want to.” Jim says.

“Don’t think you can fool me.” Leonard says. Jim just laughs in response. The conversation feels rather intimate, because for all intents and purposes Leonard is still holding Jim in his arms.

“I think we should celebrate this.” Jim says, snuggling a little closer as though reading Leonard’s mind.

“Yeah?” Leonard asks.

“Yeah.” Jim agrees and that’s all the warning Leonard gets before Jim closes the minimal distance between them and captures Leonard’s lips with his own.

The kiss is charged from the first moment, lips molding against each other over and over. Both men are grasping for each other in an effort to get closer. Jim’s hands are searing against Leonard’s skin as he reaches under Leonard’s shirt, every touch making Leonard’s heartrate spike instantly. Leonard’s hand entangles itself in Jim’s soft hair while his other arm encircles his waist.

The feeling of Jim’s lips on his own is the most intoxicating thing Leonard can remember. Neither is satisfied with keeping the kiss chaste for long, and Leonard licks against Jim’s lips as Jim pants for air. Jim moans into his mouth, something that sounds deliciously like _‘Bones’_ as he greedily allows Leonard to deepen the kiss. Jim’s hands rake over Leonard’s back, drawing burning lines of want with his fingers and nails, and if they don’t do something, they’ll be falling on the floor any moment, so Leonard pushes Jim backwards and up against the wall, the impact bringing them closer together and both moan at the accidental friction.

Leonard leaves Jim’s mouth in favor of kissing and sucking his way down Jim’s jaw and throat, reveling in the needy sounds and hitched breaths that comes from Jim as he lets his head fall back to allow Leonard free access to the skin there before Leonard returns his attention to Jim’s mouth.

Leonard is achingly aroused and being pressed against Jim, he can tell that it’s not just him. It’s practically impossible to think through the haze of lust and want, but he has to. Leonard is not going to disregard Jim’s past and push him too far too soon; they need to be on the same page about this.

“Jim.” He gasps, forcing himself to pull away.

“Bones.” Jim responds, catching on to the fact that Leonard is trying to slow them down. Jim leans his head back against the wall, his blue eyes dark with desire, but he’s clearly restraining himself.

“Are you sure about this?” Leonard asks. Jim seems taken aback by the question.

“Yes. That should be obvious.” Jim says, huffing out a breathless laugh. Leonard closes his eyes, forcing himself to not be deterred from getting to his actual point. He can’t do this halfway.

“That’s not what I mean. I don’t mean this, sex, now. I mean this, us, for real.” Leonard gets out, opening his eyes and looking for any clues on the younger man’s face.

“Do you want that?” Jim seems surprised and that smarts a little.

“Yes.” He says, because this is a deal breaker for what they’re doing. Jim seems lost, like he doesn’t know what to do with that statement. Not the most encouraging sign, but then again why would Jim actually know? Leonard doesn’t know much about what happened to Jim in the years between Tarsus and the academy, but from what he has said over the years, Leonard’s pretty sure it didn’t involve stable long-term relationships.

“But why, Bones? I’m not really…” Jim trails off, clearly not sure what he is or isn’t.

“I know, Jim. I know you’re annoying as hell and you always seems to find a new way to get yourself into trouble. But I love you anyway.” Leonard says.

“You… do?” Jim sounds like he’s trying desperately to find any kind of response that’s more appropriate than ‘argh, cooties!’ which is probably the developmental stage he was on last time someone expressed such a sentiment to him. It makes Leonard equal parts amused and sad.

“Don’t look so scared, kid. The fact that I love you isn’t going to hurt you.” He says calmly.

“But it doesn’t make sense,  I’m…”

Leonard wasn’t going to let Jim go down that self-deprecating line of thought.

“Kind? Brave? Strong? Selfless? Brilliant? You took in a bitter divorcee who threw up on you and turned his life around. I can’t really see how I was supposed to not love you, darling.” And Leonard does love Jim.  With a love that is deep, devoted and, above all, terrifying.

From the way Jim shudders slightly and his eyes go wide, Leonard takes it that the endearment is a turn-on for Jim, which is all kinds of gratifying, but he isn’t ready to investigate that particular kink yet. They have to get this right. Possibly it had been a mistake to kiss first, but it is what it is.

“Jim, darling. I need you to understand this, really understand it. I love you. I want a relationship with you. But if you don’t want that, if you’re not ready or you just don’t reciprocate, then that’s alright. Only I need you to tell me, because I don’t do casual, and I’d rather be your friend than have some scam of a relationship or let casual sex break us apart. No matter what you choose, I’m not going anywhere, so don’t think you have to say yes to a relationship to keep me here with you. Alright?” Leonard says, stroking his hand through Jim’s hair, because the younger man seems close to hyperventilating. Jim leans into the touch but remains quiet for a long while, gathering his thoughts. Leonard allows him to do so without interrupting, for all that the wait is nerve-wracking. Sure, he won’t in any way abandon their friendship if Jim says no. But he can’t pretend the disappointment wouldn’t sting. Finally Jim sighs and catches his eyes.

“I don’t know anything about love,” Jim finally says. “Except for those months on Tarsus with my aunt and uncle, I’ve never even seen what a real relationship is supposed to look like. All I had was mom and Frank and then the various sketchy people who were willing to employ and house a runaway teen without asking questions. And I know that none of that is supposed to represent a healthy love life.” Leonard keeps running his hand through Jim’s hair, though he’s not sure if he’s doing it to calm Jim or himself.

“So I don’t know about love. I don’t know much about trust either, for the matter. What I do know is that you’re the only person in my life who’s never turned his back on me, and it’s not for lack of reasons. I know that when I don’t eat, you make me. When I’m angry, you listen. When I’m hurt, you notice. And when I’m happy, it’s often because of you. Simple things, really. But you’re always there.” Jim keeps twisting snippets of Leonard’s shirt where he caught a hold of it, a clear sign of how far out of his comfort zone he is. But the almost painfully earnest words are spilling from him like he doesn’t know how to stop. Leonard feels helplessly caught up in the unexpected stream of praise, unsure of what to do with himself in response.

“And it’s probably the most selfish thing in the world, but I don’t know how to function without you. I need you. Need you more than I need food or sleep, really. So, you’re grumpy and for some reason convinced that you’re old and burned out, which I’ll never understand. But you’re also the most caring person I’ve ever met. You’re a genius with your work, partly because you care so much.” Jim charges on. Leonard can just feel that he’s working up a flustered blush at Jim’s words, which is absolutely peachy: Now they can _both_ be floundering like elementary schoolers having just had their first kiss. It’s more fitting than Leonard wants to acknowledge.

“Come on, Jim, this ain’t about me.” Leonard tries to regain some sense of control over the conversation, but it just prompts Jim to still his hands and straighten up, brilliant blue eyes meeting Leonard’s square on.

“It kind of is. Bones, you’re like the most amazing person I know. You care to put in those extra hours and the loss of sleep to get the job done. You don’t care about yourself enough and you worry excessively. Getting you to laugh and relax is a challenge and reward all in one, and fuck if I can make sense of that. So, I don’t know about love. But I do know about you, Bones. And if you’re crazy enough to want a relationship with me, then I’m not going to turn you down. That is, if you can live with that fact that I have no idea what I’m doing and maybe I’ll never be able to tell you what you want to hear.” Jim concludes. But while Jim has very explicitly stated that he wants a relationship, Leonard can’t help but notice that Jim seems to be talking about them in the way he had just warned Jim against: that the relationship was a way to make sure they stayed together.

“Jim. Just, bear with me. We can’t all be geniuses here. When you say you need me and you want a relationship because of it, are you doing what I just told you not to do? Because you have me, Jim, in whatever way you want.” Leonard says anxiously. A smile tugs on Jim’s lips.

“You really do worry too much. Bones. Listen to me. I need you in my life and I _want_ you in my life. I want you in every way I can have you. I want to argue with you over stupid things. I want to share take-out after one of our absurdly long days. And I want you in my bed when the day ends. Does that answer your question?” Jim asks, and finally Leonard allows himself to give in to joy of reciprocated feelings. With no reason not to, he claims Jim’s lips again. Jim meets him kiss for kiss, shamelessly moaning as Leonard slides a hand down to cup his ass.

“I believe it does, darling.” Leonard drawls before he drowns in the luxury of getting lost in Jim’s body and his generous responses, rejoicing in how things worked out for them after all.

 


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to tie up the loose ends, here is an epilogue. BE SURE TO READ THE LAST CHAPTER (CHAPTER 4) BEFORE THIS ONE!! :D :D

The fact that Jim Kirk scored a perfect result on the notorious command track test is impossible to keep secret. When on top of that Starfleet proceeds to put together a committee to reevaluate the central command and communication structures as suggested by Jim’s analysis in said exam, the gossip is unavoidable.

Some cadets immediately complain that Jim has once again been commended because of his dead father. Some are just curious about what he actually said. The fact that Jim himself is unwilling to talk about the subject creates further intrigue and divides the waters even more: to some, his unwillingness to discuss his exam and commendation appears perfect proof that he cheated, though how exactly he’d done that on an exam that it’s generally impossible to cheat on is left uncommented on.

To others, it seems to be the first inkling that maybe the Jim Kirk they think they know isn’t the actual Jim Kirk. Leonard doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at how slow on the uptake these people are, but at least Jim finds the situation amusing, apart from being a little bothered by people demanding him to explain the details of his exam.

The fact that Jim is only bothered by the constant nagging and not entirely wound up on himself is proof to Leonard of how much better Jim is doing. In a way, the exam seems to have had a cathartic effect on Jim. Perhaps because, in spite of how stressful it was, it turned out to be a positive experience.

The fact that Jim finally gave voice to the things that had been eating at him for years and was received with love and respect rather than the cold dismissal he’d learned to expect is one positive aspect. Another is that Jim stated his observations and complaints in a formal setting, and then actually had his beliefs validated by the people who’d been such a big part of causing the original trauma.

Whatever the reason, Leonard is thankful that Jim is doing better than he has done in the entire time they’ve known each other. A happy Jim is good for many things. Including a whole lot of sex. While Leonard doesn’t ask if Jim needs for them to take it slow, he does watch very carefully for any signs of it, just as he keeps an eye out for anything that might trigger a negative reaction in Jim. He never finds anything. Jim is never anything but a responsive and generous partner. If Leonard hadn’t known what had happened when Jim was an early teen, he wouldn’t have guessed.

The fact that Leonard never voices his concerns out loud doesn’t mean that Jim doesn’t pick up on it just weeks into their relationship.

“I know that worrying is your thing, Bones, but you really don’t have to. I’m not scarred from what happened at Tarsus, at least not when it comes to us sleeping together.” Jim says one day as they both sit on Leonard’s bed, each enjoying the ability to read for leisure again now that they’ve both concluded their exams. Leonard raises an eyebrow.

“That’s a little hard to believe.” He says. Jim smiles faintly and trails his fingers down Leonard’s forearm, causing goosebumps before settling his hand on top of Leonard’s, his expression growing pensive.

“I know that what they did was rape. Intellectually, I recognize that as what happened, just as I recognize rape as being sexual assault. But in my memories, it’s different. It was never sexual to me. It was just a way of getting something out of the pain, and there was so much pain regardless. It was just… trading torture for food. Unpleasant and unwanted, yes, but not really pertaining to who I was or am as an individual. There’s this thing that a lot of the other victims didn’t seem to hear, no matter who told them; that it shouldn’t affect your sex-life because being raped isn’t having a sex, it’s being hurt, and so you can’t reasonably compare it to what you’re doing with the partners of your choosing. But for some reason I always felt that way, which I guess is the punchline: You have to feel it and not just rationally realize it for it to stick. I don’t know why I was different like that. I don’t know why I was the one to walk away from the whole thing so relatively unscathed when even my kids…” Jim stops himself suddenly, ridding himself of the ghosts in his eyes with visible effort. Leonard turns his hand and catches Jim’s, silently offering support. Jim gives him a smile.

“Anyway, I’ve had sex since, and it’s been pleasant experiences, if not always meaningful.” Jim finishes with a shrug. Leonard looks closely at the younger man for signs that he’s being less than truthful.

“It’s not like I’m complaining, darling. Just promise that you’ll let me know if for any reason you need me to stop.” He says and Jim laughs as he kisses him.

“Not likely.” He mutters between two kisses.

“I’m hungry.” He declares as he pulls back a little. Leonard rolls his eyes.

“I’m starting to think your appetite’s bipolar. Some days nothing short of threatening you with hypos can get you to eat. And then other days it’s like there’s not enough food in the world to satisfy you.” Leonard says, well aware of several reasons for Jim’s appetite being what it is, but he’s learned that sometimes joking about it makes it easier for Jim to deal with.

“And you complain equally either way. Really, Bones, which is it?” Jim asks with a wink.

“Get off your lazy ass so we can go get something to eat.” Leonard says and Jim does as requested.

“Though really, you of all people shouldn’t call my ass lazy.” Jim remarks with a smirk.

“That a statement you’d care to prove?” Leonard asks, raising his eyebrows in a dare.

“Actually, yes. But later, my bipolar appetite demands food. We should go to that Italian place.” Jim says, already heading out in the warm summer evening while Leonard is getting on shoes.

Leonard follows him, enjoying the dinner with Jim. He’s too darn old to go on romantic dates with his boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy spending any evening with the man he loves. If that happens to take place at a restaurant, then he has no objections.

They might have gotten into the kind of conversation over the last part of dinner that has them taking the short route home. It might also account for how they occasionally get distracted on the way back home. It doesn’t quite account for why neither of them remembers what day it is.

But that is how Leonard McCoy becomes known as the man who’s done the impossible by making _the_ Jim Kirk skip the party of the year in favor of staying in with his boyfriend. And if that’s how their absence from the next number of parties is explained, well, it’s not exactly a lie.

The fact that the common acceptance of their committed relationship finally clears up some of the  mists surrounding the infamous Jim Kirk’s public persona in favor of some genuine appreciation for the work he’s doing through his last year doesn’t hurt either. In fact, neither Leonard nor Jim can remember a time where they had it better.

Sure, they argue. Sure, Jim freaks out over random acts of commitment. Sure, Leonard worries too much. But at the end of the day, when they lie down next to one another and breathe in the same air, they know there’s nowhere they’d rather be and not a single thing in their relationship they’d change.

 


End file.
